


to your heart and to your home

by theangryblob



Series: omigiri bites [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Early relationship omi blushy blushy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryblob/pseuds/theangryblob
Summary: It’s absurd to him how he easily prepares food for him, asks about his likes and dislikes, takes every part of Kiyoomi and shapes the rest of his kitchen and his home around him.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: omigiri bites [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889293
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	to your heart and to your home

**Author's Note:**

> komi? thats pronounced ko-omi

Osamu lathers the cleanser onto his cheeks, fingertips rubbing in smooth circles, building up a foam that touches his hairline. He’s too tall for this bathroom - either he’s comically leaning over the sink like Kiyoomi, or spreading his legs till he’s short enough to comfortably wash his face. It’s the latter today, and he looks a little funny with the water dripping down his forearms and his hair kept back with a white rabbit clip. 

Kiyoomi leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, content to just watch for a moment. Osamu catches him staring through the mirror and he winks, rinses off the cleanser before yanking the towel from his neck and dabbing at his face. 

He’s so used to living with animals - watching Osamu’s simple, unhurried routine makes him feel a little warm, like there’s a weight settling over his heart, calming but ever present. 

“You’re staring.”

Kiyoomi flinches, clearing his throat and stepping back. “The rice is ready. Come eat.” 

Osamu hums, unclips his hair and shakes it out. Kiyoomi has the urge to run his fingers through it, comb it smooth and brush it away from his forehead, but he just stares. 

Osamu raises a brow. “You’re blocking the door, Komi.” 

With a huff, he turns on his heel, heading right back to the kitchen, not bothering to check if Osamu’s coming behind him. If he looks back, Osamu will see him blushing and that's  _ too much _ right now. It’s the third time he’s come over and Osamu’s increasing casualness is infuriating, because somehow dressed in sweats and spooning rice directly into Kiyoomi’s bowl is the most handsome he’s ever seen him, and it’s the  _ worst _ . 

He came here in a turtleneck and his nicest jeans, he’s wearing  _ eyeliner _ , and Kiyoomi feels like he’s been shown up by a man with a perfect jaw and a bunny hair clip. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Kiyoomi snaps his head to Osamu, narrowing his eyes. “NO? What on earth gave you that idea?”

It’s harsh to his own ears but Osamu just pauses, stares at him for a long moment, droopy eyes almost shining, before he smirks and steps into the kitchen. “Alright. Come sit down. Food’s ready.” 

Stubbornly, he stomps right up to the rice cooker, taking out some bowls from the cupboard and and doling out two portions, filling up Osamu’s bowl till the rice is domed like a sphere, almost comically overfull. By now he knows this is the right amount - even off season, Kiyoomi doesn’t make a habit of eating a lot of carbs, but Osamu will probably get up for seconds at some point, even with his ridiculous portion sizes. 

When he turns around, Osamu is setting a bowl of butajiru on the table, taking off the lid to let the steam billow up. He wafts it away with his hand, patiently waiting till Kiyoomi comes back and they sit together. 

The gesture isn’t lost on him - rather, Kiyoomi’s heart hammers against his chest thinking about the deliberate ways Osamu makes room for him in his home.

It’s absurd to him how he easily prepares food for him, asks about his likes and dislikes, takes every part of Kiyoomi and shapes the rest of his kitchen and his home around him. He’s always thought about what it would be like to have Osamu’s undivided attention, but thinking turned to wanting which turned to knowing. And knowing - Kiyoomi feels his throat well up, feels himself both shrink and grow under the weight of his attention, feels like he might explode with it.

Osamu leans across the table, touches his hand. Kiyoomi blinks, before laying his hand flat, palm up as an invitation. Osamu takes it, takes his hand and lifts it to his mouth, lips brushing Kiyoomi’s knuckles. “I feel like I can hear you thinking. Just relax with me, alright? It’s just a night in for the two of us. Nothing else.”

Right now, there’s nothing hiding the warmth crawling up his cheeks. His ears feel hot and he clenches his fist, but he stops himself from pulling his hand away because he’ll regret not making this feeling last. Osamu’s lips on his skin, reverent and warm. 

“I know.” He moves his hand closer to Osamu’s face, brushing his finger against his jaw. “It’s not a big deal.” But it’s a big deal when he refuses to unlink their hands. 

“Food’s gonna get cold Komi. If you’re not gonna let go of me then you gotta feed me.”

He flushes right up to his ears and lets go, palm tingling where their skin unlinks. Osamu’s feet brush against his under the table, and he stares for a moment at the bowl of hot soup, the steam from the rice wafting up and kissing his cheeks. 

Kiyoomi swallows around air, stomach and heart churning alike. 

“ _ Itadakimasu.” _

“ _ Itadakimasu.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> respond by dabbing


End file.
